Cheap Baggage:
Don't tell me how to feel, baggage pouring from
The insides of your closets, dictated by what is real
Stacked so high your promiscuity nothing like mine
There are no white knights upon steed in these dreams
There are only harsh memories and colder feet
How many men have to be between these legs
How many frozen feelings have to ice the dread
These has been no romance, no soft love
There has been foreshadowing failure
Larger than life, the sharpest cut of a knife
In the acknowledgement that you are only wanted
In the worst possible ways
For a loathsome body and a personality that is not yours
Indulging in sabotage is not what it seems
Because I would rather be anything than this
Indiscreet, out my sins, a mockery for me to bleed again
I want nothing more than to be clean.
~J.K.M
A Lair Makes Each And Every One Of Us:
Lies reaching towards the heaven in a tower
Of complexity never to reach its destined position
Ostracised by sin and grim layer of distorted filth
Lies make each and every one of us to drown
Our own guilt. Our shame, our insecurities born into bone
Sinking into marrow
Shivering bodies shaking with the weight of deceit
Secrets encrypted in all of us, all something to hide
None of us are better than the other, none are worse
We have our cracking tower twisted with vines
Each new leaf protruding into the light
Further away from the infrastructure we created
The mould we formed to stabilise what was left
Of clawing human beings, dark lies bleeding.
For it is public nature to hide, it is the human way
Of life to lie.
It is what people as cowards do to retreat, lick their wounds
I am no fool
I have no intention of thinking that even know there is nothing left
Because humans will always have something ferocious to hide
We all do. All of you. Each and every one.
And sometimes, cowardice is berthed from a need
To protect the civilian peace.
The stability.
Sometimes the irony in cowardice, is bravery.
~J.K.M
YOU ARE READING
1. An Implication (Poetry)
PoetryPoetry for humanity. A collection of thoughts. An array of poetry displayed in raw light. "For what it's worth, not even words can explain the complications in ones head." ~J.K.M.
